"I take the case!" cried Katherine, amazed.

"Yes. You are a lawyer."

"But I have never handled a case in court! I am not even admitted to
the bar of the state. And, besides, a woman lawyer in Westville----
No, it's quite out of the question."

"I was only suggesting it, you know," he said apologetically.

"Oh, I realized you did not mean it seriously."

Her face grew ashen as her failure came to her afresh. She gazed at
him with a final desperation.

"Then your answer--it is final?"

"I am sorry, but it is final," said he.

Her head dropped.

"Thank you," she said dully. "Good-by." And she started away.

"Wait, Katherine."

She paused, and he came to her side. His features were gray-hued and
were twitching strangely; for an instant she had the wild impression
that his old love for her still lived.

"I am sorry that--that the first time you asked aid of me--I should
fail you. But but----"

"I understand."

"One word more." But he let several moments pass before he spoke it,
and he wet his lips continually. "Remember, I am still your friend.
Though I cannot take the case, I shall be glad, in a private way, to
advise you upon any matters you may care to lay before me."

"You are very good."

"Then you accept?"

"How can I refuse? Thank you."

He accompanied her down the stairway and to the door. Heavy-hearted,
she returned home. This was sad news to bring her father, whom but
half an hour before she had so confidently cheered; and she knew not
in what fresh direction to turn for aid.

She went straight up to her father's room. With him she found a
stranger, who had a vague, far-distant familiarity.

The two men rose.

"This is my daughter," said Doctor West.

The stranger bowed slightly.

"I have heard of Miss West," he said, and in his manner Katherine's
quick instinct read strong preconceived disapprobation.

"And, Katherine," continued her father, "this is Mr. Bruce."

She stopped short.

"Mr. Bruce of the _Express_?"

"Of the _Express_," Bruce calmly repeated.

Her dejected figure grew suddenly tense, and her cheeks glowed with
hot colour. She moved up before the editor and gazed with flashing
eyes into his square-jawed face.

"So you are the man who wrote those brutal things about father?"

He bristled at her hostile tone and manner, and there was a quick
snapping behind the heavy glasses.

"I am the man who wrote those true things about your father," he said
with cold